A Traitorous Heart: The Reluctant Lords, #1

Prologue

Prologue

Northeast Portugal, near the Spanish border , End of October 1807

The sound of explosions continued around her as she ran towards him, determined to prove to herself she hadn’t seen him fall. She had no time to rationalize why they were being attacked, she could only focus on survival. There would be time enough for thinking after they had survived, and dammit, they would survive.

An explosion lit her way and debris flew into her eyes, temporarily blinding her. She stumbled to a stop removing grit from her eyes, unknowingly leaving herself a perfect target for the hidden marksman on the nearby hill. Too late she saw the movement in the bushes and a glint of silver. She started to move, but a dark shadow passed in front of her and pushed her backwards. Tripping on her long skirt, she fell in a heap. A hysterical sob burst from her throat as the dark shadow rolled with her until they ended in a shallow trench with the imposing form lying on top of her. She struggled to regain her breath from the impact of the landing and attempted to throw off the person crushing her to the ground.

Don’t move, the voice whispered in her ear.

What? She managed to question the figure cloaked in darkness.

Tessa, lass, I love you, he said before his breath rushed out into her ear one last time.

Papa, she choked out as tears coursed down her cheek, and the coppery smell of his blood surrounded her, making her sick. Yet she obeyed his words and lay still as death. The smell of blood and burning sulfur scorched her nostrils. Her life had fallen apart within seconds. Tessa felt the heavy weight of the signet ring on her left hand and replayed his fall in her mind, seeing his horse press him to the ground as he fell, certain he could not have survived. Slowly the explosions came to a halt and the dust of battle began to settle.

She strained to hear movement, but only deafening silence greeted her ears after the loudness of the attack. Tessa attempted to work her way free of her father’s lifeless body, but found him too heavy and her too weak. Unless someone came along to clear the battlefield, she could be buried alive. Preferring unknown horrors from the enemy over the tomb she currently found herself shrouded in, Tessa let loose an ear-piercing scream that had those who had come to rob the bodies looking at each other in horror and crossing themselves for protection.

1

London, ten months later...

Today passed much like other days in her new life. It no longer mattered what made her happy, for she doubted she would ever be truly happy again. Instead she focused solely on survival. Today she sold oranges on the streets and smiled prettily for the men. Tessa hated how cheap she felt, flirting for a few extra pennies, but she would do anything to survive. Well, almost anything. I’ll never be desperate enough to sell my body, she amended silently.

She would at least be able to eat and pay rent this week. Thank goodness she had had the good sense to begin taking in sewing and washing for extra money. At least I’m alive, she shuddered cutting off the thought hastily. She neared the building she currently lived in. Many called the building a hovel, and she would have to agree. She shared her mattress with vermin, instead of men like her other roommates, and dared not even think about what crawled into her food at night. Hers had become a depressing existence.

She found herself a half block away from the door to the building she shared with fifteen other tenants when a hand grabbed her upper arm. A squeal escaped her and she tried to jerk her arm out of the strong grip. The man kept a firm hold on her, propelling her to change directions mid-stride. They quickly turned and crossed the traffic-laden street. People shouted obscenities at them as horses were pulled up short so as to not cause an accident.

What’re you doing? Tessa demanded, recognizing the man as her friend, Danny.

Keep walking, he dragged her along.

I just want to go home.

We can’t. The two continued to move through the traffic on the streets and on the sidewalks. Danny forced her to travel down fetid alleys worse than she had ever seen. The pair kept this random movement up for what seemed to be hours.

Slow down, Tessa whispered urgently. My side hurts and I can’t catch my breath.

There’s no time. You have to keep going. Do it for me, love, Danny whispered as he took her down several more turns and even darker alleys. Tessa heard nothing save for her harsh breathing, but he kept pushing her.

Who are we running from? He did not respond, just kept moving and dragging her behind him. Danny had been acting strangely ever since they had stepped foot on English soil. He had more money than he ever had, and she refused his offers to take some. She feared he had gotten in with a band of smugglers or worse. He had been spending a lot of time at the docks and claimed the extra blunt came from the navy hiring civilians to load up their ships so as not to overwork their crews. Tessa would have believed him except his behavior had become even stranger and now this.

Nothing, he bit out. Just keep moving. And so they moved. Tessa had this awful sinking sensation that Danny had become involved in something nefarious and if they were caught she would be pulled into it as well. Did she truly have a choice? Her thoughts had been roaming as he dragged her behind him and she had missed the faint tattoos that continued to grow louder.

Shit! he cursed and pulled her deep into the shadows behind a building. Every window shone brightly with light and boisterous noises spilled into the darkening night. Feminine giggling and moans could be heard and the occasional male shouts. Tessa blushed to her auburn hair as she realized they were standing outside a brothel.

Now listen to me, Tessa, he urged. Only when he had her full and undivided attention did he continue, If anything happens, you run to the docks as fast as you can. Ask for Brutus. You remember Brutus don’t you? Only when he saw her nod of understanding did he continue. Remind him we are friends. He will take care of you. Understand?

She nodded vaguely, but couldn’t help questioning him, Who’s chasing us?

Soldiers more than likely.

Why?

Better you not know.

I’m sure whatever it is isn’t as bad as you think. We’ll just reason with them.

Too late for that, he muttered. Now listen to me, he waited to continue until he saw her head bob up and down in compliance. If anything should happen to me you know nothing, so even if you are questioned you cannot answer. Who are you to ask for at the docks?

Brutus.

Good. He is a mean son of a bitch, but he will keep you safe. Do not forget to remind him we are friends if he doesn’t remember you.

Do you not even regret getting me involved in whatever this is? She railed at him. I am tired and just wanted to go home! She noticed he paid no attention to her tirade and had begun moving towards the large pile of trash behind the brothel. She watched as he began climbing it. Where are you going? Tessa demanded, hands on hips.

Sshhh, follow me, he whispered, leaping from the top of the trash pile to the only open second floor window. Tessa cringed as she watched him miss and crash back into the pile. He stood up and shook off the bad landing before climbing back up to the top of the heap. This time he took a couple of running steps before leaping and barely grabbing the window ledge. He slowly pulled himself up into the window. Your turn, he held out his hands to her.

No, she whispered and shook her head solemnly. There were shouts to halt coming from the end of the alley.

Dammit, come on, he yelled at her. Get up there and jump. Tessa reluctantly followed his command. She hit the rough wall and began sliding down before she felt a rough hand grab her wrist. All of her weight hinged on her shoulder and tears came to her eyes as she felt it shift oddly then heard a pop. The pain ripped through her and she cried out.

She looked up in time to see an envelope flutter out of Danny’s pocket and quickly grabbed it.

Drop it! Danny yelled, his words covered up by the sound of gunshots. He tried to pull her up into the window. She screamed and bright spots went across her vision. Her hand began to slip from his grip.

Dammit, drop the envelope and use your other hand. More shots rang out chipping the bricks on the building around her. The pain from her shoulder made her nauseous and unable to think clearly. Tessa felt the signet ring begin to slip off her finger with Danny’s hold. She fisted her hand, causing him to completely lose his grip. Throwing herself back as she fell, she watched him leave her in fate’s clutches.

I’ll never forgive you! she shouted before she made impact with the cold, filthy, hard ground.

She missed the largest part of the trash pile. Her head snapped back and cracked against the brick paving stones on the ground. Sparks lit her vision then darkness descended.

Derek leaned negligently against one of the ornate marble pillars at the edge of the dance floor. He watched his sister’s progress across the ballroom. She had more than her share of dance partners this evening. However, the women treated her as if she were a social pariah. They loathed the success she had with the men, pulling them away from the society misses.

The beau monde, however, treated Derek differently. The women loved him, and the more aloof he acted, the more they wanted him. The men did not hate him, but a few begrudged him his new, fairly unexpected place in society. He hated the season and the ton, but endured both for Mikala’s sake. She deserved a good life, if only he could trust any of the louts that she had danced with this evening. In his opinion, none of them were good enough for her or likely to be very faithful, and Kala deserved more than that. He snorted softly to himself, since when have you become a romantic?, he questioned himself. He knew, but determinedly pushed back the encroaching memories.

Kala and her current partner made a pass down the dance floor. She seemed to be doing well with this unexpected life. They both were, considering that neither truly belonged here. Shortly before the attack occurred, that fateful letter caught up to him from his great-uncle’s solicitor. He had to read it three times to make certain he understood, and then he had cursed his foolish cousin roundly. There had been a possibility that he would inherit the lands and title associated with the Earl of Blackburn from his great-uncle, but Percival’s son Thomas, should have inherited. True, Thomas had been a wastrel, but Derek never thought he would forfeit his life.

Thomas had been a healthy, virile man, which is what got him killed in the end. He had become a little too involved with the wrong man’s wife. Perhaps Thomas should have practiced up on a different sort of swordplay a little more, but instead he had died with no legal heir. Soon after, great-uncle Percival passed on and the title had fallen to Derek.

Five months had passed since he had recovered and made the trek back home to take over the title of Earl of Blackburn and all that it entailed. It had not been an easy conversion from a lowly lieutenant in the king’s army to a peer of the realm. He relied heavily on his best friend, the Duke of Hawkescliffe for guidance in his new position. Kala had been glad to join him in London in the beginning for it removed her from her mother and sister’s critical eyes. Kala would never fit the idea of how they believed a woman should behave, though both loved her dearly.

Their aunt Drucilla helped Kala purchase a new wardrobe befitting the sister of an earl. His mother had been friends with some of the local gentry’s wives around the school and the women allowed Kala to join their daughters in dancing lessons. She had enjoyed herself immensely, but he thought she appeared a little too trusting of the men of the ton. Therefore, he watched her, or rather the young men that fawned over her, like a hawk. And this is just the prelude of the Little Season, Derek thought, dreading having to chaperone his sister through the much larger Season.

Kala now stood with a group of young ladies that seemed to accept her fairly well. Derek grinned at her as she flashed a smile at him from across the ballroom. His expression changed to a slight grimace as he shifted the weight on his legs, his right stiff and aching. Derek watched Kala laugh and innocently flirt as several young men joined the group, something she never would have experienced at this vast level being a schoolmaster’s daughter. He would not deny her the experience, but he would not push her into the arms of someone she did not love in order to make a good match. He abhorred that most about the members of the haute ton, their view on relationships.

A ripple of noise began from the entrance into the ballroom. The crowd began to part like the Red Sea as a man with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a scar across his face walked into the room. He searched the room, his eyes lighting on Kala. They exchanged a nod and a smile before he moved across the floor towards Derek. He made his way across the room neatly avoiding the mamas trying to push their daughters at him.

The announcement of his name to the assembled group caused quite a stir, mainly because the man did not attend very many functions of this nature. Derek ignored the crowd and turned his attention on the man walking his direction. It took him a full ten minutes to finally reach his side.

Took you long enough, Your Grace, Derek teased smoothly, yet only loud enough for the Duke’s ears.

Shut it, Blackburn, Gabriel Hawke, Duke of Hawkescliffe retorted. A half-grin formed on Derek’s chiseled lips. The Duke of Hawkescliffe remained the only ton friend that Derek wanted, mainly because they had been friends since childhood.

Derek’s father had been a tutor for Gabe and his two older brothers. Social differences did not matter to the two youngsters and they soon became inseparable. Gabriel, the third son of a duke, and Derek, a schoolmaster’s son, had immediately struck up a friendship that withstood the test of time.

Derek’s father had received an appointment as headmaster of a school, preparing boys to attend university. Gabe’s father had sent him to the school, never expecting he would inherit the title. Derek and Gabe had been involved in too many scrapes and fights to count. Gabe remained the only member of the ton that Derek trusted wholeheartedly.

So what, or should I say who, brings you to this gala event Blackburn? Gabe asked carelessly.

As if you need ask, Derek replied by crossing his arms and nodding in Kala’s direction.

Well, don’t worry. The two of you will be out of here within five minutes. At this bit of news Derek perked up.

Oh? New developments?

Definitely. You need to drop Miss Simmons off and then make your way to the safe house. You should just beat the physician there.

Oh? Anything serious?

Probably nothing worse than a dislocated shoulder from the information I received, the Duke mused. We may also be dealing with a possible traitor this time.

Bloody hell.

Exactly. Keep an eye on this one. Do not let her convince you to let her go.

Her?

Yes, it’s a woman, but don’t be fooled. It seems the comelier they are the less trustworthy they are.

You’re such a cynic. Anything else?

I’ll be over in the next day or two for a full report. McKenzie will be chomping at the bit to find out about this one. You will need to begin questioning her as soon as possible.

He nodded his understanding. Why aren’t you taking care of this one?

I’m meeting with the prime minister in less than an hour.

Enough said. I had better gather up Mikala.

Indeed. By the way, see if the prisoner knows what the packet contained. It is being decoded as we speak, but if we can get her to break ranks, it will be a tremendous help, the Duke finished his last bit of instructions as Mikala Simmons walked up. Miss Simmons, Gabe said as he bowed over her outstretched hand, dropping a kiss on her fingers.

Your Grace, she responded impishly and a bit breathlessly as she lowered herself into a deep curtsy.

Kala, we must leave, something urgent has come up.

Doesn’t it always? she replied. I suppose neither of you are going to let me in on the secret? No, of course not, she answered when she saw their stony faces. I will wait for you in the entry hall and say goodnight to our host and hostess. Please excuse me Derek, Your Grace. With a wistful sigh and a glance at Gabe she walked off.

You know. . . Derek hedged.

No, the Duke of Hawkescliffe bit out before slipping out the garden doors into the cool evening air. Derek made his way to his sister, leaning heavily on his cane, and escorted her outside to their awaiting carriage. The footman had the door open and the stairs pulled out. Derek helped his sister in then grabbed the doorframe and hauled himself inside wincing slightly.

Hurting? Kala inquired as the footman shut the door and climbed onto the carriage.

The weather. In response a gust of wind made the carriage sway.

I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget about your leg.

I wish I could. Did you have fun?

I suppose.

What’s wrong? Derek queried concerned by the tone of her voice.

I miss our old life I guess. It seemed so much simpler and friends were truly friends. Even Gabe used to be different, she sighed petulantly.

Derek grinned and shook his head. Sometimes Kala reminded him of the little ragamuffin that trailed after him and Gabe on their many countryside jaunts during the holidays. "Pest, we all must grow up at some point. I’m just glad to know you are not as trusting of the ton as I believed you to be."

Give me a little credit. I am just jealous of you and Gabe. You both left and lived an adventure, but I never went anywhere, Kala stated abruptly. Derek opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off, And don’t you dare say life is an adventure. I am sick to death of the adventure of ballrooms, soirees, and musicales. The girls wait until your back is turned to find a juicy tidbit to share with others hoping to ruin your reputation and the mothers are worse. The fathers only care about heirs, money, and ridding themselves of their troublesome daughters.

Kala, I would rather you face these adventures than those that Gabe and I faced. She gave him a mulish look. And you are just now being introduced to everyone. Once they get to know you it will be better. Besides, the men are attentive, he continued.

"Of course they are. They just want to get you to the marriage bed without the benefit of marriage," she huffed.

Who?

No one I can’t handle, she waved him off.

I’m sorry you are not having a good time. I truly thought you were.

It isn’t your fault. I did have fun in the beginning, but I find there are few people in society that I would trust enough to consider a friend. I miss my friends and I miss home.

Do you want to go back?

I don’t know, she shrugged, perhaps when it comes time for Elizabeth’s confinement.

Think on it. We’re home. I’m just dropping you off.

Of course you are. Have fun fighting crime.

Kala, he warned.

"Derek, I’m not stupid. I know that you and Gabe are doing something dangerous, but that’s all right. I will amuse myself with embroidery and painting like all young ladies of the ton should," she replied as the footman helped her out of the carriage and onto the cobblestones in front of the house in St. James Square. Kala flashed a brilliant smile at the footman as she passed him and then swept into the house. Ramsey, Percival’s old butler, shut and locked the door behind her.

Take me around to the mews. I will be taking Goliath this evening instead of the carriage.

Very well, my lord. The carriage door shut and the conveyance swayed as the footman once more took his place. As the vehicle lumbered into the mews, Derek heard the shout to ready the lord’s horse. Shortly, a footman brought out a buckskin gelding, saddled and ready.

Your pistols are in the bags.

Well done Riggs. Derek moved over to Goliath and the mounting block. Once mounted, Derek held out his hand for his cane. I will be late returning.

Someone will be waiting, my lord. Derek nodded his acceptance of this courtesy and turned Goliath toward Cheapside.

2

G ood evening, my lord, Lieutenant Harding greeted Derek as he arrived at the safe house well past midnight.

Lieutenant, Derek nodded curtly. Harding held Goliath while Derek lowered himself to the ground. Derek untied the cane and removed the two pistols. The prisoner?

Upstairs, my lord. She’s a right fetchin’ lass. Derek nodded, but paused giving Harding a look that had the man looking sheepish. Pardon me, my lord. Derek prominently limped as he moved toward the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane. His leg began to throb uncomfortably. He silently reprimanded himself for not taking a carriage.

Has the physician arrived yet?

No, my lord.

Show him up as soon as he arrives.

Yes, my lord. Derek climbed the short entrance stairs and saw the guards standing at the far end of the hall. He gave a short nod before entering the chamber where they held the prisoner. The guard opened the door for him and closed it firmly after he entered. A slight figure lay on the bed in the shadows. The fire burned cheerfully in the grate belying the seriousness of the situation. Derek stopped in front of the fire and removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. He knew from experience it would be a long evening and decided to get as comfortable as possible. He wished for a draught for his leg, but needed all his wits for questioning the prisoner.

Derek lit a candle from the fire. The glow showed the cracks in the ceiling and the stained walls. If this were not more of a prison, it would be a slum. He moved towards the bed and noticed the prisoner dressed as if she resided here, her clothes little more than rags. She looked more like a street urchin than a woman with traitor’s secrets.

Her feet and good arm were manacled to the thick bedposts by long chains. Her other arm lay at a slightly odd angle from the shoulder, and her skin looked pasty and covered with perspiration. Her auburn curls caressed her sunken cheeks. She looked to be in desperate need of food. A light blanket covered her, but her teeth still clicked together as if she were freezing. He attributed the action to shock.

Derek lowered the candle to get a better look at the woman’s face. Something familiar tugged at him. He studied her more intently, trying to see past the grime that covered her. His heart picked up an unsteady rhythm. His hands shook and he tried to calm himself, placing the candle on the side table with a thud before he dropped it and caught the whole bloody house on fire.

She turned her eyes away from the candlelight, and a moan escaped her lips. Her hair lay matted at the base of her skull. He lightly touched the area and discovered a huge lump. Upon withdrawing his fingers he found them coated in her blood.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped at the red staining his hand, unable to remove it completely. He lectured himself about look-a-likes and imposters. She could not have survived. No one had. He had been assured over and over. Derek grasped her pointed little chin in his hand and turned her face towards him once more. She cried out at the movement. He focused on the freckles scattered across her upturned nose and the lush bow shape of her lips. Her brow furrowed in pain, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He noticed a glint of gold on her left ring finger and immediately recognized the signet ring. Auburn hair, the ring, and that familiar spattering of freckles – it could not be, yet the evidence said otherwise. He fell heavily onto the ladder-back chair that sat next to the bed. His heart thundered until he thought it would leave the confines of his chest at any moment. He grasped the hand of her uninjured right arm, not noticing the blood that covered it. He chaffed it gently between his own.

Open your eyes, he commanded.

She heard the commanding voice and moaned as the pain filtered into her unconsciousness. She heard the command again. I’m trying, she thought. She fought her way out of the darkness to hear the voice she thought lost to her forever. The pounding in her head intensified so much it almost caused her to give up and retreat back into the darkness. She tried to move her hands to her head, hoping to ease the pain only to find one immobile and the other produced such pain when moved, that she cried out. Oh please, just let me die, she thought as the throbbing intensified. No, she would not give in to death, not when so many others had been taken from her.

The voice called to her again. Perhaps God had sent him to take her to Heaven. She had always thought it would be her mum to do that, but as long as she had him again, she did not care. Her eyes fluttered open, but the light from the fire and small candle on the bedside table were too much for her to bear. She quickly closed them again, certain she would be sick at any moment.

No, open your eyes now, the voice demanded again. Sometimes he could be so intolerably high-handed, she thought. Nevertheless, she obeyed this one final time and opened her eyes. She knew either he would not truly be there or she had expired and entered the afterlife. She had dreamed of him so many times and woken up certain he would be with her, but there had been no one. Therefore, she decided, I must be dead, only I hurt too badly.

Derek watched intently as her emerald eyes shown brightly from behind fluttering lids. They looked feverish, set in a very familiar and dear face. He brought her manacled hand up to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles covered in dry blood.

Contessa, he whispered softly.

I must be in Heaven, she said hoarsely, but it feels like Hell. After uttering those words, the ragamuffin prisoner smiled at her jailer and then let the darkness carry her away once more to blessed oblivion.

Derek stared dumbfounded at the limp hand that he held in his. He reached across her and gently caressed the signet ring gracing her delicate finger. She looked malnourished. What had happened to her in these last ten months? How could Gabe believe her a traitor? What possible causes did he have to even consider it?

He stood painfully and leaned over her letting his lips lightly caress hers. Derek stood watching her and raked his hands through his golden brown hair giving it a decidedly rakish appearance. He paced the room like a caged animal forgetting about his throbbing leg. The Earl of Blackburn alternated between thanking God that He had seen fit to bring her back to him, and cursing the circumstances all in the same breath. He limped to the door and jerked it open. The guard jumped to attention.

Have you heard from the physician yet?

Yes, my lord. He sent the lad back with word ten minutes ago. He will be at least another half hour.

Damn, he paused and rested his head against the hand tightly gripping the door. Send the lad for Hawkescliffe. Tell him it is an emergency, Derek barked the order. Give me the keys to the manacles, he held out his hand and his tone brooked no argument. The guard handed over the keys reluctantly and Derek slammed the door in his face, having to take his frustration out on someone.

He limped back over to the bed and released the prisoner from her restraints. The chains dropped to the floor with a loud metallic clank. He sat and stared at her, his thoughts chasing each other. How could it be? He had been told everyone perished, except the handful that had been severely wounded. Nearly an entire village had been wiped out. He heard a disturbance outside the door before it flew open.

All right Blackburn, what’s so damned important that it could not wait until morning? Hawkescliffe demanded as he strode into the room. Derek had been unaware of the passage of time while he watched her and contemplated the various scenarios. The doctor had not yet arrived, so surely not much time had passed. Derek shushed